At Moonlight
by Tarie
Summary: "I'll be back for you before morning...but if for some reason I'm not...look for me at moonlight. No matter what, I'll be back for you, come hell or..." (Harry/Ginny) Inspired by/based on Loreena McKennit's ballad version of the Alfred Noyes poem, "The Highwayman." HBP-compatible fic.


The wind whipped through his hair and chilled him right to the bone, but he didn't slow down a whit. Sliding his hands to the middle of the broom handle, he applied a slight pressure with the heels of his palms. The Firebolt sped up instantly, and Harry leant forward, squinting against the brightness of the moonlight, eyes searching.

There it was.

Just off a beaten path, surrounded by patches of heath and peat bogs, was a run-down old inn. It looked vacant, like no one had set foot in it for generations, but Harry knew better. She was waiting for him there.

Touching down, Harry dismounted, his trainers making wet sucking noises as he cut around the trees and through the poorly-drained land.

Clenching the Firebolt in one hand, the fingers on Harry's other hand clutched tightly around the hilt of his wand. He hadn't been followed, as far as he could tell, but one couldn't be too careful. This was risky enough as it was, coming out here to see her. He should be on his way already; he shouldn't have stopped. He shouldn't be _with_ her, actually, but he was selfish. They'd tried to be apart; it'd been his idea. She was in danger, he'd told her, by being with him. She was a target. That's why he'd broken things off with her, for her safety. Breaking things off with Ginny, Harry had realised only a few days after he'd gone and done it, had been bad. Plenty of people tried to help him and support him when it came to Voldemort, but only Ginny truly _understood_. She knew all too well what it was like to be under his power, and it was so helpful to be with someone who _got_ that. Harry had lasted four days, if that, before he'd taken the floo to the Burrow and apologised to Ginny, asking her to take him back. He'd been on the receiving end of her infamous Bat Bogey hex two or three times before she relented, and they've been together ever since then.

Creeping up to the back crumbling stone building, Harry spied shuttered windows and made a beeline for them. Heart hammering in his chest -_he needed to _**_go_** - he tapped the shutters with his wand and waited, but they didn't budge. She had to be there. Ginny'd promised him, and Harry knew, from years of being around Ron, that a Weasley always kept their word. Jaw set, he stole round the corner and went to the next window, tapping on it and softly calling her name.

His heart nearly leapt in his throat when the shutters opened, squealing and groaning on their hinges in protest, and his eyes laid on her for the first time in weeks.

_Ginny_.

One delicate hand lay on the window sill, while the other smoothed at the back of her hair. Dropping his broom to the ground, he reached in the window, curling his fingers around the nape of her neck, under her fiery red plait - wove in lover's knots - pulling her to him. Pressing his forehead against hers, Harry searched her eyes desperately. "You know where I'm going."

Ginny nodded, brushing her nose against Harry's, causing his heart to swell. It had been far too long, and this stolen moment was already too brief for his liking.

"I'll be back for you before morning...but if for some reason I'm not...look for me at moonlight. No matter what, I'll be back for you, come hell or..." There was a lump in his throat and he swallowed against it, resolution and nerves setting in. This was going to be it. After all this time...

"If I didn't think you'd hex me, I'd follow you," Ginny swore, her lips moving against Harry's as she spoke.

"I know," he said thickly, his eyes falling shut as their mouths met in an urgent, frantic kiss. Her kiss was warm and familiar and home, and Harry swore on his parents' graves that he was going to return to her.

Inhaling deeply, he pulled away from her and stooped down to retrieve his broom. She tugged the black ribbon off the bottom of her plait and shook her head, her hair falling softly around her shoulders like a curtain of flames. He couldn't resist leaning in the window one last time, inhaling the clean, sweet scent of her hair. He could still smell her as he mounted his broom and kicked off the ground hard, heading off to confront the bastard once and for all.

Harry didn't come back for her before morning. Harry didn't come back for her at noon. Harry didn't come back for her at tea.

It would soon be dark, Ginny knew. Hoping against hope that she'd see him, even though Ginny knew she shouldn't do it, she opened the shutters on one of the front windows and stuck her head out, looking this way and that, hoping to catch sight of him in the tawny sky.

She saw something in the sky, approaching the inn quickly, but it wasn't Harry. It wasn't Harry and it definitely wasn't friendly.

Cursing under her breath, Ginny slammed the shutters closed and crossed to the dilapidated floo, stooping down and reaching inside the cracked flowerpot.

A loud _boom_ sounded and the door blew inward, splintering into a dozen pieces. A large slat of wood slammed against Ginny's shoulder, sending her wand flying as she reeled and fell on her arse.

Death Eaters.

"_Incarcerous_," one of them sneered, advancing on her as she scrambled after her wand. Thick ropes shot out of the masked man's wand and wound themselves around Ginny's body. She fell prone to the floor, trying like anything to loosen the ropes, but the only thing she succeeded in doing was rubbing the skin on her wrists raw.

_"Look for me at moonlight..."_

She heard Harry's words in her mind, clinging to them as the Death Eaters laughed at her and prodded her. The night grew old, but she didn't lose hope. Harry's voice was so clear and loud in her mind that it gave her the strength to keep trying; she twisted her hands behind her, working against the bindings. The knots held good but she didn't give up hope, writhing her hands until they were slippery and wet. Whether they were wet with sweat or blood, she did not know.

Outside she could hear the howl of the wind whistle through trees and the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She could feel him. He was coming for her.

They must have sensed it, too, because two of them jumped up out of old, uneven chairs and ran to the space where the door had been. Ginny felt herself being levitated upright and outside, moonlight illuminating her stiff, bound form. Turning her face up to the night sky, she saw him. Harry was speeding toward her and, even though he was too far away to see properly, Ginny knew he wore a worried, frenzied look on his face. She wished she'd her wand so she could warn him somehow, send up red sparks or something, _anything_. It was a trap, and Harry was headed right for it and oh-

_Green_.

Green and then

black.

"NO!"

There was a flash of green light and then she fell.

Harry watched Ginny fall.

He should have known. He shouldn't have _gone_. It'd been a trap, all of it. Voldemort hadn't been there. There hadn't been any sign of him; Harry thought he'd gotten the coordinates buggered up but that hadn't been it. He'd been right; he'd gone to the right place. There just hadnt' been anyone there because it'd been a fucking _trap_.

As soon as Harry figured it out, he'd headed back to get Ginny, to take her somewhere else, because obviously the inn wasn't safe anymore.

But he'd been too late. Too bloody late.

His voice was so loud that it hurt his ears and he clutched his head, not caring a whit that the ground was fast approaching. What did it matter now that Ginny was gone? He wouldn't ever forgive himself, and he knew that the Weasleys - what was left of them - wouldn't either and-

The Death Eaters were coming out of the inn, wands at the ready.

Harry saw them, saw their cowardly masks and their ridiculous robes and then he saw _red_.

Harry saw red and hatred pulsed madly through his veins. His feet had scarcely touched the ground before he lit off his broom, wand held high as he charged at them. Blinded by rage and hate and the need for revenge, he flicked and swished and bellowed at the assembled Death Eaters. Chest heaving with effort as he hexed and dodged them, Harry didn't stop until the last bloody coward was felled and the air stank of Dark Magic and burning flesh.

It was only then when the night was finally still that Harry allowed himself to crawl to Ginny's still, bound form. Choking on his sobs, he sat behind her and hauled her up against his chest, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on her shoulder. She was still warm and sweet-smelling, and Harry couldn't hold back his tears any longer.

It was only when he heard two distinct _pops_ behind him that he stopped, keeping one hand on Ginny while he twisted toward the sound brandishing his wand. Standing beside a small pile of bodies were Ron and Hermione. They didn't say anything, just took in the scene around them. Their eyes shifted from the dead Death Eaters to Ginny's body in Harry's arms. Ron swayed on his feet and Hermione took hold of his elbow, dragging him toward Harry and pulling him down as she sank to the ground beside Harry. Ron smoothed his sister's hair, a look of disbelief on his face. Harry could feel Hermione studying him and Ron and he leaned back against her. Hermione opened her arms and wrapped the both of them in her embrace, pulling them close.

The wind whipped through his hair and chilled him right to the bone while the moonlight shone on.


End file.
